The Hunter's Moon
by Kafka'sdragon
Summary: Demons are attacking students and a specialist is called in all the way from Arkham Massachusetts. Featuring Setsuna Sakurazaki and an OC. Second chapter finally up.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The idea came to me as a Halloween story, but looks like I've missed that holiday. So an early Happy Labour Thanksgiving Day.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters. Dr. Cornelius P. Troy is my own invention but was inspired by the 'Call of Cthulhu' role playing game published by Chaosium'**

**The following conventions are use **"words", 'thoughts', "**spells"**, '_reading_'

**Shadows Across the Moon**

A full moon, glowing with a coppery-orange color, hung high above Mahora. Its light cast shadows that flitted about like moths. Crossing the elementary school's playground, two girls walked side by side, moving at the languid pace of friendship. At first glance, they appeared similar in their matching uniforms, but a closer look made their differences apparent.

One girl had dark brown hair that fell to her waist and her developing figure showed the potential for turning the boys' heads. She exuded a sense of joy that would make people smile in response to meeting her. By contrast, her slender companion was tense and wary as eyes constantly darted around, scanning their surroundings as if she was point on a patrol. This girl's hair hardly reached her shoulders and had been gathered into a pony tail tied off to the side. Jutting above her head was the hilt of a sword nearly as long as she was tall.

"I didn't expect my club meeting to last so long Se-chan," the cheerful girl said. "Thanks for waiting for me."

"It's my duty, er, pleasure Kono-chan," her friend replied as eyes carefully peered at the dark spaces resting beneath nearby trees. Setsuna's ears strained to catch the slightest sound but heard only the gentle swaying of branches and the hard click of their heels.

"The moon is beautiful tonight isn't it?" Konoka asked.

The swordswoman glanced up and gave a terse "yes" in agreement.

"Do they call that a Harvest Moon?"

"That was last month," Setsuna answered. "I think this is called a Hunter's Moon."

They walked a few more steps in silence. The fragrance of pine was strong, but another scent, undefined, lay beneath it. Setsuna was trying to place it when she felt a hand, soft and silky-smooth, glide against her bare palm. It felt warm against her skin as their fingers intertwined around each others like a vine curling about a garden trellis. Heat rose in the swordswoman's cheeks as a pink flush spread over them.

Holding hands was nothing to get flustered over she reminded herself, yet Konoka's closeness made concentrating on anything else difficult. Imagining the other girl's giggles over her embarrassment, Setsuna resolved not to show how affected she was. A few more steps and congratulations seemed in order when the swordswoman was stopped in her tracks.

"Do you like me Se-chan?"

Too stunned by the question to think, she stared speechlessly at Konoka's face. Setsuna had devoted the last half of her life to this girl. How could there be any doubt what her feelings were? Finally, she found her voice. "Of course I like you," she stammered. "You are the most important person in my life."

A smile, swift in execution and devastating in impact, covered her friend's face. "I'm so happy," Konoka replied and then moved closer.

Like a cat upon its unsuspecting prey, those smiling lips pounced and captured hers. Setsuna tried to protest but only a "mumpf" could be heard. Lightheadedness enveloped her as the world began to reel.

Distracted as they were, neither girl noticed the dark shape loom over them. A shiny, black leg struck, knocking Setsuna to the side. Gravel scrapped against her shoulder as the swordswoman hit the ground and rolled. In an instant, she was on her feet, sliding the scabbard from her blade.

Six feet splayed out to hold up the huge creature's bulk. In appearance it resembled a wingless wasp about 2.5 meters long. Black scales shimmered in the moonlight and Konoka lay, covered in deep shadows, beneath the monstrous insect. As the end of its body curled into a c-shape, Setsuna could see a stinger at the tip. Swiftly it jabbed down at the prone girl but stopped short as Yunagi barred it way.

Muscles strained as the swordswoman fought to keep the dagger-sharp stinger from her friend. Pressure suddenly released as the creature rapidly swung about, and struck out with one of its legs. Appendage and sword met as the force knocked Setsuna back though she managed to keep her feet this time. Pulled from a pocket, her hand held three talismans. "**Kashou,**" she shouted as the paper strips were flung forward. As they streaked towards the beast, white wings spread out to either side of its opponent.

Setsuna was aloft as the charms burst into flames against their target. Ki flooded through her and gathered in her sword. As the monster seemed ready to stab its helpless prey, the cry "**Ougi Zanmaken!**" rang out. Power slashed down, slicing through armor-like scales into softer tissue below, and severed the creature in two.

"Kono-chan!" Setsuna shouted as she landed and push part of the smoking body from atop her ojou-sama. "Are you alright?"

But Konoka didn't answer her protector's frantic question. The girl's eyes were shut and the front of her blouse was covered with an ever widening red stain.

--

Brick tenements, built at the turn of the previous century, lined the street. Unlike other North End neighborhoods, slowly recovering from decades of neglect, these buildings remained dark and vacant; grim reminders of what happens when rising expectations meet falling land values. Only those with no place else to go could be found here, and even they would leave after a night or two, victims of a sense of dread that pervaded the block.

An abandoned church stood at the end of the row, on the corner of Dexter St and Bishop Ave. Plywood boards were nailed over windows and a chain link fence encircled the property. But the sanctuary wasn't empty this evening as a very special group of worshippers gathered in the once holy place.

Light flickered from tall candelabras, each set at the point of a pentacle painted on the hardwood floor. A group of twenty robed and hooded figures gathered round a makeshift altar, their voices filled the air with an eerie drone not unlike the incessant chirping of insects on a summer's evening. A naked girl, bound and gagged, lay upon the table.

"Oh great Azathoth, Lord of All Things, who sits at the center of space and time, hear our words," cried one of the worshippers.

An unseen force rippled through the air as a thin, plaintive melody from a flute sounded. "This is our lamb," the speaker continued, "without blemish or stain. Perfect in every way."

A knife appeared, candle-light gleaming from its polished blade. The girl began to twist but rough, cruel hands reached out and held her in place. "Accept our sacrifice and bless us with your favor."

Knife lifted into the air, one hand clenched about the hilt while the other grasped its end. Overhead, rafters creaked as a black shape leapt down. Boot heels struck the floor, followed by the ominous click of twin hammers being cocked back. Pistols flashed in the shadows and their roar drowned out other noises. Robed cultists shrieked and scrambled to flee, but were mercilessly gunned down.

As quickly as it had begun, the massacre was over. Surveying the body strewn floor, the gunman loaded fresh magazines into both hand guns and then stepped forward. He was dressed in a black turtleneck, trousers, gloves and boots. Thinning, blonde hair covered his head and steel rimmed glasses perched in front of watery-blue eyes. Holstering his weapons, the man grabbed the knife's wielder by the robes and hauled him up.

The assailant's hand pulled backed then flew forward, striking the cultist's cheek. "Wake up!" he shouted. "You're not dead yet!" Several more slaps followed and then a groan.

Eyes fluttered open and the robed man stared up at his attacker, fear plainly visible. "Don't … don't hurt me," came a whimper.

In the distance, the wail of police sirens could be heard. "Don't worry, you're just small fry," the blond-haired man declared contemptuously as he shoved the cultist away. "You're not worth the bother."

A stench reached him and the gunman glanced over at the table. The girl had thankfully fainted, but lay in her own filth. A cold anger filled his gut and colored his pale face, bright red. "The hell you're not!" he yelled as a booted foot crunched into the other man's mouth.

--

Hours later, a group of reporters gathered in front of the French Hill Police Station. Like a pack of wolves they lay in wait for their prey. Doors swung open as a knot of uniformed officers appeared. Within their protective circle, a man dressed all in black, with a pair of pistols holstered to his hips, strode forward. A wide-brimmed hat rested atop his head and a woolen overcoat was slung around his shoulders in the manner of a cape.

"Doctor Troy! Doctor Troy!" they shouted, clamoring for his attention. Questioned fired rapidly one after the other. "How many people did you shoot?" "Do you know you're being sued by one of your victims?" "Has the university suspended you?" "How is the girl?"

"Hold up," he told his escorts and then faced the sea of flashbulbs and microphones. "The girl is alive and under the care of physicians at the St. Mary's Hospital. But she's undergone a traumatic experience that may take years of therapy to overcome, if ever."

"Doctor Troy, do you feel remorse over the people you shot?"

"Nobody died this evening. I have no remorse about that," he replied as his mouth curled into a disdainful scowl. "But I'll tell you what I do feel remorseful about."

"That girl started an online relationship with a man who claimed to be a professional photographer, and offered her $200 if she'd pose for him," he told the reporters. "She was drugged by one of these people you asked if I feel sorry for and nearly murdered by him and his associates."

"You want a story?" he asked as barely suppressed anger etched his words in clear relief. "Then print that one."

"Let's go," he told the officers as he turned on his heel and ignored all further questions. Doctor Cornelius P. Troy, Professor of Occult and Paranormal Studies at Miskatonic University, climbed into the back seat of the squad car and let out a weary sigh. It had been a long evening and getting longer by the minute.

"Where to Doc?" the driver asked.

"To the university please, Armitage Hall."

It took several flicks of the siren to clear a path, but they were soon clear of the police station and turning up Main Street.

It reflected poorly on society that he was painted as the villain while murderous scum like the cultists were made into victims. The man he had kicked in the mouth was trying to slap a civil suit on him for pain and suffering. 'Let him,' he thought. 'Who has money? I'm a college professor.'

A vibration caught his attention and he pulled the cell phone from a coat pocket. The screen showed a new text message but the number was unfamiliar. Opening the message, he quickly scanned its contents. '_Dear Doctor Troy … are experiencing problems that call for a man of your talents … need you to travel to Mahora immediately … awaiting your response … Konoemon Konoe_.'

'Japan,' he thought to himself. He hadn't visited there in years, and Mahora had a reputation much like his own school. If they couldn't handle something, then the problem was more than serious. Riding in the back of a police cruiser, Doctor Troy composed his answer. '_Sir, I am honored that you think so highly of my abilities. Rest assured that I will come to Japan at the earliest opportunity and render whatever aid I can. Yours Very Truly, Cornelius P. Troy._'

--

**A/N: Kashou translates as burn. Ougi Zanmaken is the Shinmei-ryu technique 'Evil Cutting Sword'. Miskatonic University and other landmarks mentioned come from stories written by H. P. Lovecraft and other authors that have used his Cthulhu Mythos as background for their stories.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, but for such a short chapter, it took forever for me to write. **

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters. Dr. Cornelius P. Troy is an OC created by yours truly. **

**This story is influenced by Chaosium's "Call of Cthulhu" game and the "Cthulhu Mythos" stories of H P Lovecraft and other authors. Various references are made to events from these sources, but I'm not providing footnotes.**

**The following conventions are use **"words", 'thoughts', "**spells"**, '_reading_'

**--**

**Red Sky in the Morning**

"More water Doctor Troy?" the smiling cabinet attendant asked as she held out another plastic cup of the sparkling liquid.

"Thank you," the jet's loan passenger replied as he accepted the offered glass. Taking a sip, Cornelius decided that a corporate jet was a vast improvement over his normal modes of transport. Crop dusters, tramp steamers, camel caravans and a beat-up sedan had all served in the past, but none of them had such comfortable seats. 'Maybe the Yukihiro Group could fund our next expedition.'

'But I hope we can use a different jet,' the professor thought, recalling the exterior paint job of a young boy surrounded by little hearts. 'I swear it was designed by an adolescent girl with more money than brains.'

"The pilot has informed me that we are within thirty minutes of landing," the attendant told him. "Please buckle up sir. Mahora is reporting severe turbulence."

"Turbulence?" he repeated and then finished his drink in a single gulp. "I can well believe that Miss."

A short while later, the professor felt his stomach dip and twist as the garishly painted jet descended. Landing wheels squealed upon touching the runway and the cabin shuddered as hydraulic breaks slowed then stopped the lumbering craft. His day had begun at 4 AM in Arkham, Massachusetts, 19 hours later and half a world away, Cornelius Troy stepped onto the tarmac of Mahora, Japan.

Mountain peaks, covered with a fine dusting of snow, surrounded the city, creating a little pocket of isolation inside one of the most populous nations on the face of the planet. Air, cool and fresh, filled his lungs as the doctor took a deep breath. Eyes beheld a beautiful, blue sky, unlike the cinnamon-colored haze familiar to East Coast cities. A sense of tranquility pervaded the place, but he knew that was a thin veneer masking the truth. Mahora was under siege; engaged in a desperate battle against adversaries who would wipe out every other living creature here without a second thought.

Called demons by some, Outsiders were creatures from other dimensions that had the misfortune to blunder into this world. They felt no more compunction about killing humans than we would about swatting a fly. A single outsider could turn a bustling village into a ghost town within days. While a city of this size should be safe from that extreme, it could still provide a safe location for a nest. And if allowed to breed, the Outsiders would eventually spread to outlying areas. Faced with that possibility, it would be better to destroy Mahora rather than let the rest of country be infected.

Two girls dressed in school uniforms stood by the Welcome gate. The taller of the pair had hair that hung in front of her eyes, while the other student's was tied into twin braids. Cornelius judged them to be about 13 years of age. As he approached he could see a bit of disappointment in their expressions. 'Not quite what you were hoping for?' he laughed to himself.

The shorter girl took a final sip and then tossed an empty juice box into a waste bin. He caught her mutter to her companion, "He's not very Indian Jones like is he?"

"No," the shaggy haired girl whispered back. "He reminds me more of the Nazi major."

Switching to English, the taller teen asked, "Doctor Troy?"

"Yes. And who are you?"

"I'm Nodoka Miyazaki," she answered and then bowed in greeting. "And this is Yue Ayase."

"It is an honor to meet you sir," the smaller girl said.

"The headmaster, Konoe-sama, asked us to bring you to his office," Nodoka informed him.

"Very well Miss Miyazaki, Miss Ayase," he replied, "take me to your leader."

--

"I trust your trip was pleasant?" Konoemon asked as they sat in the headmaster's office.

"Very pleasant," the professor answered. His eyes darted about the room while drumming a wide-brimmed hat against his knee. "Not to be brusque, but I am curious as to why you need my help. I would think the staff at Mahora quite capable of handling any situation."

"My people are quite capable Doctor Troy," the old man quickly assured him. "But we at Mahora enjoy a close knit relationship within our community. There is a natural reluctance to intrude too deeply into another's affairs."

"Are you saying your people are too polite to battle an infestation of Outsiders?"

"Not too polite," the headmaster answered. "Rather, too closely acquainted."

"The lessons of your Wilmarth Foundation's operations against Devil's Reef are not lost on me," Konoemon continued. "Eradicating this threat may require harsh measures. Measures my people may hesitate to employ. As somebody not so intimately involved, I believe you can more readily do what is necessary."

Understanding came instantly; he was to be the hatchet man, the one to get hands dirty and not be bothered by remorse. Cornelius' lips pulled back into a dour smile. "I will do all within my power," he promised. "However, things might get a bit 'messy'."

"A risk I am afraid we must take," Konoemon said. "We have experienced six attacks since the beginning of September; my granddaughter was the latest victim."

"Where's the girl now?"

"In the intensive care unit of the university's medical center," the headmaster answered. "She was fortunate that her bodyguard was able to dispatch the creature, but not before being severely wounded."

"I'd like to speak to the bodyguard," he said. "And would it be possible for me to examine the creature's remains?"

"Both can be arranged," the headmaster assured. "Is there anything else we can do to assist you?"

Fingers rubbed against his chin as he thought. "I may need to do some research so I'd like someone familiar with your library to assist me."

"Yue-kun and Nodoka-kun can help you with that," Konoemon offered. "Those two are diligent members of our library exploration club and both are aware of magic."

"I do want to point out that my methods are, shall we say, direct," Cornelius warned. "There may be some danger involved to those who help me."

As he spoke, the headmaster seemed to shrink into a frail-looking caricature of a man. "That is understood," the headmaster responded. "You have a free hand to act as is necessary, but remember that Mahora is a heavy populated city, not a backwoods village or remote Pacific island."

"Of course," he said while rising to his feet. "I'd like to get started right away if you've no objection."

"Not at all," Konoemon told him as he pressed the intercom button and asked for the two students waiting outside.

"Nodoka-kun," the headmaster said, "please escort our esteemed guest to the caretaker's cottage near the clock tower."

As he and the girl left the office, Cornelius heard the old man say "I want you to deliver the following message Yue-kun." The door swung shut behind him, cutting off the remaining instructions.

--

Eyes strained as she continued to stare at the glowing, green line on the monitor screen. Dread filled her with the falling of each peak until the next one started its climb. A blue tube, attached to yet another machine, snaked its way across the bed, up the side of the patient's face, to disappear down her nose. Another tube, clear this time, conducted antibiotics from a plastic bag into the unconscious girl's arm. Bruises and punctures from other needles showed starkly against the pure white of that same arm.

A bitter taste of failure filled Setsuna's mouth as she waited by her ojou-sama's bedside. Inattentiveness at a critical moment led to this, proving her unworthy as Konoka's protector. It didn't matter that she slew the attacking demon or that without her presence the girl would now be dead. Neither excused the fact that the swordswoman let herself be distracted from her duty.

Although Konoka's grandfather said nothing, Setsuna could see the headmaster's disappointment. "Get some sleep Setsuna-kun," he had told her. What he really meant was "you can't protect her, so go." Rumor said Konoe-sama had summoned a skilled, demon-hunter from America. No doubt, this man would replace the shinmei-ryu as his granddaughter's guardian. Tears of shame and rage threatened to break forth, however years of discipline held them back.

"If only …" Setsuna whispered and the paused. If only what? If only she could continue to serve her precious charge? If only they wouldn't send her away so she could still be near Konoka. Rising from her chair, Setsuna stood over the hospital bed; her gaze lingered on the other girl's face, peacefully reposed in slumber.

"If only," she began again, "I could show you how much I love you Konoka Ojou-sama."

A hand tenderly reached out to caress that sleeping face, but was snatched back as the door swung open and Yue walked into the room. How odd her classmate looked without a juice box in hand. "What is it?" Setsuna's expression asked.

"Doctor Troy has arrived," the little girl announced in a matter-of-fact tone. "The headmaster asked that you met him at the old caretaker's cottage immediately and provide any information on the attack."

Setsuna's heart sank at those words; her replacement was here. Her sword and service would no longer be required. It was only as she deserved. 'Useless!' a mental voice mercilessly castigated the swordswoman. 'Worthless! Unfit to stand in ojou-sama's presence!'

"Very well," she replied with the resolve of a condemned criminal headed to the gallows. "Could you stay with Konoka? In case she wakes up?"

Pity appeared within her classmate's eyes as Yue choked out a "Yes." Setsuna could have wept as she fled the intensive care unit.

--

After receiving no response to her knock, Setsuna slowly pushed open the cottage's door. "Hello," she called out. "Is anybody in?"

An empty room greeted the shinmei-ryu as she stepped inside the cottage. Despite the school's chronic housing shortage, the cottage had been vacant ever since her first year here. "Doctor Troy," she called out again. A scuffling noise came from an open doorway on the opposite wall. As Setsuna stepped between the door posts, she heard the whistle of metal slicing through the air and ducked as a blade chopped into the wooden post with a thunk. Leaping away from her assailant, Setsuna landed in a crouch. Yunagi slid from its scabbard with a harsh screech of defiance.

A strange man, a little less than average height with a whippet-thin build, strode into the room. A wide-brimmed hat covered his head, and a wan face peaked out from underneath. Pale blue eyes, cold and pitiless, stared through steel-rimmed spectacles. With speed born of experience, he drew one of the pistols holstered at his side and fired three shots. Setsuna's sword whirled in a flash of silver, deflecting each bullet but allowing her attacker to move in close. Blades rang as the shinmei-ryu parried a thrust aimed for her throat.

Her opponent's sword was considerably shorter than the nodachi, but he wielded it with a quickness that kept the swordswoman on the defensive. Thrust, parry, riposte and block, the clamor of battle filled the tiny cottage as Setsuna slowly gave ground. Pouncing upon a sudden opening, Yunagi slashed forward, only to be stopped by a gun barrel. A moment of astonishment left her defenseless as a boot smashed into the girl's face, sending her flying into a wall.

Blood trickled from the side of her mouth as her tongue tasted its salty tang. Blade held before her, Setsuna tensed before springing forward with murderous intent. Her attack never materialized as the front door slammed open and Nodoka rushed inside. "Stay back!" she warned the shy booklover.

"What are you doing Setsuna-san?" Nodoka screamed. "This is Doctor Troy!"

"This girl's a demon Miss Miyazaki," the man growled in a tone as friendly as a brick shattering a plate glass window.

"She's my classmate," Nodoka replied.

Setsuna lowered the nodachi a little, but remained wary of her attacker. In response, the man took a step back and holstered his pistol. "You're Miss Konoe's bodyguard?" the man, obviously still suspicious, asked. Not trusting her own voice, the swordswoman nodded in affirmation.

"You were with her when she was attacked?"

Again she nodded as Yunagi dipped lower.

"My name is Doctor Cornelius P. Troy," he told her. "You're headmaster asked me to put an end to these demon attacks."

"Then you are not here to guard ojou … Konoka-san?" she asked in disbelief.

"I'm no babysitter," that jagged voice answered as his face settled into a scowl. "I'm the exterminator."


End file.
